


Bedrooms, Hallways, and Air Force One

by mcgarrygirl78



Series: Marnie and the Shark [2]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time she was with Bruno Margaret wanted to say sexy, witty things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedrooms, Hallways, and Air Force One

**Author's Note:**

> The title doesn't have anything to do with the story but I didn't know that when I started writing it.

“Do you think I could borrow her for the ride back to DC?” Bruno asked. “She is highly efficient and I hope she can help me organize some of this mess. Tonight will be a good time to start.”

Leo nodded. They were standing outside of Irvine Auditorium in Philadelphia. The President had just done a speech there that was a rousing success. The reelection train was rolling. They would head back to Willow Grove Air Force Base and take Air Force One back to the White House.

“If it is alright with Margaret, then its fine with me.” Leo replied.

He looked at his assistant and she put on her best smile.

“It’s fine. You know I am not that big on flying anyway. Shall I come back to the White House when I get to DC?” she asked.

“Traffic on 95 on a Friday night, it will probably be midnight by the time you get back. Go home.”

“Are you sure Leo?”

“Yeah. I will see you tomorrow morning.”

He headed back to the door to find Josh and Toby. Margaret looked at Bruno.

“Organize some mess?” she asked.

“How do you know that is not true?”

“Firstly, I don’t know if anything you say is true. Secondly, you have the organizational skills of an OCD librarian. Nothing is ever out of place.”

“Maybe I wanted the pleasure of your company. I know that you hate to fly.”

“And you will find some way to entertain me for approximately three hours?”

Bruno looked at her, his grey eyes nearly burning a hole in her.

“Yes.” He answered.

***

“This car better not move until you buckle up.” She said.

Bruno started the Buick, turning down NPR.

“You are a demanding woman.” He strapped himself in. “There are CDs in the glove compartment if you are compelled.”

“It’s fine.”

A light but steady rain began to fall as they pulled away from the University of Pennsylvania. Bruno cracked the window and lit a Camel.

“I should probably quit.” He muttered.

“Yes. But then you would be unbearable.”

“Mmm. I'm beginning to think you don’t like me at all Margaret.”

“I don’t accept long rides from men I don’t like.” She replied. “I certainly don't sleep with them.”

Bruno nodded and they were quiet for a while. She looked out the window at the passing buildings; she had never been to Philadelphia. Besides that, she really had no idea what to say. Every time she was with Bruno Margaret wanted to say sexy, witty things. Then she would open her mouth and something silly or obscure came out. She could always make Bruno laugh but she had yet to figure out if he was laughing with or at her.

“There is a tiny island between Morocco and Sicily where the average person lives into their hundreds. Anthropologists want to go there to study the effects of water, food, and genealogy.”

“There is nothing between Morocco and Sicily.” Bruno replied.

“Of course there is. I read it in National Geographic. Why would National Geographic lie?”

“I think you mean Madagascar.”

“No, I mean National Geographic.”

“The country Margaret…the country is Madagascar. It is an island off the coast of Africa. Morocco is another country altogether.”

“Oh. OK.”

She was quiet again as Bruno pulled onto the Vine Street Expressway.

“Do you know you have this tendency to be, well, smug?” she asked.

“Yes. Are you sure you're OK listening to NPR? There are CDs in the glove compartment.”

“I'm indifferent Bruno.”

“I didn’t bring you along to bicker.” He said.

She glared at him.

“I'm not…you know what?” she let out a frustrated shriek. “Shut up! You are insufferable!”

Bruno laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me. I'm serious.”

“I'm not laughing at you. I would never laugh at you. I don’t want to argue; I want a nice ride and some conversation. Maybe we can even stop in Maryland for dinner.”

“I love the Seafood Association in Chevy Chase.” Margaret said.

“We should go then.”

“No, it’s too late. We are past the dinner hour. I will probably just go home and make a sandwich or something.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you though.”

“You are a tough nut to crack.”

Bruno reached over and turned the radio off. Brushing Margaret’s thigh, he popped open the glove compartment and then lit another cigarette.

“You should quit, chain smoking at least. It is so bad for you.”

“Would it be worth my being unbearable? We all have our vices Marnie. Please pick a CD.”

She sighed, leafing through the contents of his glove compartment. It was meticulous and Margaret pulled out a CD.

“You don’t look like a Culture Club fan.”

“What do they look like?”

“Not like you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” She replied.

“Yes you do. Just tell me; damn near nothing offends me.”

“It’s just…not Bruno-like.”

“What is Bruno-like?” he asked.

“Sinatra maybe. John Coltrane, Lena Horne; the classics.”

“I like those too. That doesn’t mean I can't rock out to The Clash.”

“Rock out?” Margaret giggled. “You? Yes, it does mean that.”

“I am normal Margaret. Why would you assume that I am not?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Give me a few…this is a lengthy ride.”

“Your posture for one. The constant scowl on your face. Your incessant need to best everyone; to be right. Your smug attitude. Your posture.”

“You said posture twice.” Bruno said.

“Its ramrod straight and that boggles my mind.”

“From the things you say about me it is a wonder you like me at all.”

“I told you that I stopped sleeping with men I didn’t like a long time ago.” She said.

Bruno glanced at her.

“Could you roll up your window please? I’m chilly.”

“I see…your nipples are hard.”

“They are not!” Margaret exclaimed, looking down.

“Made you look.” He said with a smile.

Margaret smiled too. See, when he did things like that she could forget for a minute or two.

“Why would you want a normal guy anyway?” Bruno asked. “You are certainly not normal.”

Margaret did not answer his question. She put in the CD and cued up Miss Me Blind.

“Do you have a favorite book Bruno?”

“A Separate Peace. Maybe To Kill A Mockingbird. It has been a long time since I had time to read.”

“Yeah. I take two hours every Sunday to just drop everything and pick up a book. I can get lost sometimes; be gone for a lot longer than two hours. You know I've read whole novels in one day. The last one was The Kitchen God’s Wife. I borrowed it from Ginger. I just looked up and it was almost midnight. I was starving and I really had to pee. A whole Sunday…what?”

“What?”

“You have a funny look on your face.” She said.

“I doubt that.”

“No, you do. What is it?”

“Nothing. I like listening to you talk.” He said.

That struck Margaret silent. She cleared her throat, wishing they had stopped for drinks before hitting the road.

“Um, maybe we can hit a rest stop soon. I have to use the bathroom and I'm thirsty.”

Bruno nodded and asked her to keep a look out for the signs.

“Tell me what you thought of the President’s speech tonight. I want to know the average American’s opinion.”

“Excellent. He is a powerful speaker. He motivates me to get out there and roll up my sleeves. Do you think he can win?”

“They said Jed Bartlet has never lost an election. Nevertheless, he will this time if he does not listen to me. If he does what I say and stops following his damn heart for a little while. Nothing about heart belongs in politics…only the strong survive.”

“His heart makes him strong.” Margaret said quietly.

“We’ll see.”

“Do you even like him? Do you believe in his message and what he stands for?”

“Inconsequential. They do not pay me to excess to like him Margaret. They pay me to win an election. Anyway, for the moment his message is ‘yes, I lied about the MS but I really want to be President again’.”

_Do you like me_ , her mind screamed. She clamped her mouth shut to keep it from coming out. It had been two months since she and Bruno first slept together. It was a late April night like this one and she worked late. He was still roaming the halls when she was leaving at one thirty. She declined his offer to drive her home with a smile. He asked again, said he did not feel comfortable with her walking at this hour and in this weather.

“ _I do it all the time. I've been in DC for a very long time Mr. Gianelli.”_

_“Bruno, and please, I insist. I will not be able to sleep tonight.”_

_Margaret smiled again. She knew it probably wasn’t true but it sounded sweet anyway._

_“OK.”_

_The ride was short and Margaret hardly realized but she was asking him up for coffee. It had been so long, she barely remembered the last person she slept with. Her job did not have relationship hours. The foreplay was a bit uncomfortable, awkward. She was nervous and trembled like a teenage girl when Bruno got her out of all of her clothes. Her nervousness made Bruno laugh._

_“I am not the Bogeyman Margaret. We can stop right now if you'd prefer. It is no good for me without active participation from all parties.”_

_“I'm sorry.” Her eyes were downcast._

_He tilted her chin until she was looking at him._

_“You have the world’s most beautiful eyes, do you know that? You are a beautiful woman.”_

_Bruno played with her body until she was moaning and writhing on the bed. He was a grunter, though good in bed. They didn’t talk much…audio most likely sounded liked a porno film._

_“Oh God!”_

_Bruno came and rolled over on the bed. Margaret pulled up the covers to conceal her nudity._

_“You're shy about your body.” He said in his usual smug, matter-of-fact tone._

_“I don’t need analysis with my sex, thank you very much.”_

_“I call them as I see them.”_

_“Shall I dance around the room naked? Will that disprove your hypothesis?” she asked._

_“No. But it will make my dick hard. I would not disagree with the choice.”_

_Margaret reached down, caressing his erection._

_“It is already hard. No dance required. Would you like to have sex again?”_

_Bruno pulled her on top of him._

_“You are remarkably odd.” He said_.

“That sign we just passed said there is a rest stop 7 miles ahead.”

“Alright. I have real food in my apartment if you want more than a sandwich when you get back to DC.”

“What do you have?”

Margaret had a fully stocked refrigerator, but she knew she was not going to Bruno’s for the food selection. Just as her coffee did not get him out of his car. She hadn't actually made him a cup of coffee yet.

“My mother’s meatloaf. An ancient Gianelli recipe that came all the way from Sardinia with my paternal grandmother.”

“It sounds delicious.” She said.

“The gravy will melt your soul. Make you a new woman.”

“The old woman is just fine.”

“Yes, she is. You will join me?”

“Sure.” Margaret nodded. “Do you have coffee and song?”

“Always. I have whatever you need; you know that.”

Yes, Bruno Gianelli, always prepared for the seduction. Margaret would not have accepted his invitation if she was not fully ready to have sex with him tonight. Not that she was afraid of Bruno forcing his attention upon her, but her sister Ann told her years ago to never accept a man’s invitation to his home without the full knowledge that sex was part of the equation. The night did not always end that way but you had to be smart and prepared. The doe in headlights routine was only cute in Hollywood productions. Ann was the black sheep of the Hooper family…she now traveled the world as a photojournalist. Many of her photographs littered her fraternal twin’s apartment.

“You're not bad all the time.” Margaret said after some thought.

“That was pretty close to a compliment Miss Hooper. Careful, or you might delude me into thinking I don’t repulse you. I have a reputation to uphold.”

With a purse of her lips, Margaret just shrugged. He did not repulse her, but he knew that. Bruno Gianelli’s problem was he thought he knew everything.

***


End file.
